Murder Hornets
Thank God, finally something positive
I stretch, I snap, I return.
Not long after murder hornets went viral, I was having visions of honey bees in a psychedelic drug trial. In 2022, I participated in an FDA-approved Phase 3 MDMA study for PTSD.
TL;DR: it really fucking works.
This is about the honey bees I saw in those visions—and the course correction that followed, as the medicine helped me return to myself and release the choices I made when my trauma was untreated.
Murder hornets can swarm a man and leave nothing but bone. My life’s work is doing the same to my trauma. The bees have my blessing.
I didn’t know it at the time, but as I continue to anchor into the visions and draw on them as a resource in my healing, I’ve come to learn that my culture has ancient ties to the mighty 🐝:
• Ancient Egypt: Bees were messengers between the mortal and divine; associated with royalty and Ma’at (cosmic order).
• Greek mythology: The Melissae, priestesses of Artemis and Demeter—goddesses of the earth, fertility, and transformation—were named for bees.
Bees have always carried messages and scattered the pollination of transformation.
This was the first pollen on my tongue.
He wanted honey bees And rubber bands And holding him In these soft hands R.I.P. to the dead dreams of every man. Baby wonders— Maybe he was born in the wrong generation? No. He mistook my warning for an invitation. I am the incinerator I am salt and vinegar. My mouth is raw I’m salty at the awe, please And I kept notes on every wrong squeeze Bitch, please. I face it in its face and see the root Of all my dis-ease My honey bees won’t go extinct I venerate with a rosary I clap and tape the pictures of the ones that made me Hoisted Free I felt the strong stamp of her strong hand Not knowing who was holding Now I’m home I see the story I see these butterflies unfolding I see glimmers in the buzzing trees But it’s pain— God, it’s hell to get back free It’s choices I had never made If not for spade not called a spade It’s a total war It’s a total spell A Disney princess never wants to tell It’s towers pasted Lifes placated Its a plaque Its all plaque Hardened erosion My incantation Takes It Back It’s course correction It’s my honor to reclamate it I don’t need to snap when Safe is soft, it’s sweet to taste it My rubber band keeps the squeeze on me My honey bees are what make me sweet Nature can be exploited But she’s still soft And she bites If she needs to fight? Protected. The sting, the body, the microphone— It’s time to hold the phone Repetition This is how you make a home In honeycomb
Your turn: What’s your version of the bees?